


From Bucky

by suicidenojutsu



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bisexual Bucky Barnes, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes Feels, Letters, M/M, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Steve Feels, Stucky - Freeform, War Era, World War II, from bucky, stevebucky - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-24
Updated: 2014-09-24
Packaged: 2018-02-18 11:56:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2347634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suicidenojutsu/pseuds/suicidenojutsu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve gives Bucky a composition notebook with a letter left inside before he goes off to the war. </p><p>Bucky uses the rest of the notebook to write letters back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	From Bucky

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the twitter account @FROMBUCKY that I write for. (Check out @TOBUCKY to see how they intertwine with each other)  
> I got the idea from thinking about Steve writing letters to Bucky while he was in captivity, and Bucky writing Steve letters while he was on the USO tour; neither of them got each others letters, so neither of them got letters sent back, but they kept writing them anyway.

**July 1925**

Today, like any other day, James Barnes is sitting across the street from the playground in his neighborhood, watching. He wishes he could join them, but he can’t bring himself to make the first move. He doesn’t know how to break the ice. He’s familiar with most of the children, and they have even tried approaching him, but his shy and closed off nature made it so that many of them have stopped trying.

The sun is hot against his skin, but he is extremely grateful for the hat he’s wearing, which had been giving to him by his father. It may be old and slightly worn out, but it’s all James has left of him.

James is lost in his internal conflict of constant bickering back and forth with himself about getting up and trying to make friends with the other kids, when he’s suddenly startled by small commotion to the left of him.

“You’re holding that book awfully tight, whatcha got in there, kid? I just wanna take a look! Come on!”

James turns his head to see a group of kids about his age huddled in a circle, apparently around someone much smaller than the rest of them, as James cannot see him past the others.

Before James can try to get a look at the kid in the middle of the small crowd, he hears a thud, and watches a small blond boy fall to the ground, hard. James can almost feel the impact. Whoever this poor kid is, he mustn’t be very smart. James gets up to get a better look at the situation, and when he approaches them, he can see that the blond is even smaller up close. He’s probably the scrawniest kid James has ever seen.

Then it all clicked. He knows that kid – he doesn’t know his name, but he remembers the figure. He had a bit of a legacy, as some would put it; he always had a black eye, or bruises, or a limp. He was a fighter, small and fragile, but he was a fighter. Unfortunately, he wasn’t the kind of fighter that the other kids were afraid of. He just didn’t know when to back down from a fight.

But the blond isn’t saying anything, he isn’t replying to anything the bully, who James knows as Justin, has angrily shouted in his face. James can see that Justin now has the book in which the commotion had started over. It’s a leather bound sketchbook, a bit weathered, but still in very good condition. Justin attempts to flip through the book when the blond gets right back up, and tries to snatch it from Justin’s grasp. He’s too slow, unfortunately, as Justin lowers the book in his left hand, and throws a strong punch with his right, sending the blond straight back into the ground. James thought that he couldn’t possibly try to get back up again, but he was wrong. But before the blond could try to lift himself back up, James steps in.

He smoothly steps right between him and the blond, whose face is now painted with his own blood. James shoves Justin back, so that the crowd shuffles away, leaving him with more room. James sends his hardest punch to Justin’s face so that he himself hits the ground, the way he had made the blond fall moments earlier. Justin gets back up quickly, but he is in utter shock. Justin puts up a good struggle as they go for a few rounds, all of which James has had the upper hand in. James is shorter than Justin, but not by much. He uses his height to his advantage and manages to trip the taller boy so he lands on his back, and without a moment’s hesitation, James is on top of him, letting his fists fly. He looks clumsy at first, but after gaining a steady rhythm, he begins delivering successful attacks, one after another.

“Say “Uncle”, say it!” he shouts.

Justin can’t withstand the beating any longer, so he immediately obliges. James gets off right away and moves to help the blond up, but not before cursing at Justin with words that would make his father turn in his grave. Although the fight had been greatly in James’ favor, Justin had still managed to get a few hits though. He noticed that like the blond boy, his nose was bleeding, and his upper lip was stained red.

James bent down to lend a hand to the smaller boy, to which he was reluctant to accept. Instead, he said, “I didn’t need your help.” Immediately after, he spit out enough blood to almost make James cringe. “I had him on the ropes.”

“I’m sure you did, but I think you hit the ground harder than you could’ve ever hit him!” James let out a small laugh, before reaching down and pulling the blond up, ignoring his refusal of his help.

“I really had him, you didn’t have to do that.”

“Then I guess I was just saving him from you.”

The blond smiled, turned toward the much taller brunet, who he now noticed had the friendliest eyes he had ever seen in his life. “My name is Steven, Steven Grant Rogers. Thank you.”

“I recognized you from school, it’s why I ran over. It’s nice to meet you. I guess I’m James Buchanan Barnes if we’re being so formal.”

“James, huh? Do you have any nicknames or is that what you prefer?”

“No one has ever given me a nickname. I’m alright with James.”

“Buchanan… That’s a name I’ve never heard. What about Bucky, Do you like that?”

James laughs, “It sounds a lot like we’re becoming friends. I like that, yeah, how about you just call me Bucky?” He breaks eye contact from Steve momentarily; he had never made a friend this easily before, and he needed a second to contain how great this made him feel.

For Steve, that feeling was different. He started feeling insecure.

“Can you really be friends with someone who can’t defend himself in a fight?” Steve was worried as the words came out of his mouth, fearing that Bucky would realize what a wimp he was, and change his mind.

“You had him on the ropes.” This made Steve smile; no one had ever spoken to him like that. Maybe a new friend couldn’t be so bad.

 

**–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––**

**June 1943**

Steve had an indescribable need to participate in the war effort, to be right out there on the front lines, defending his country. When Bucky’s enlistment notice came in the mail, he felt a harsh mix of happiness, jealousy, and anxiety. He was happy that his best pal was considered a good candidate to serve his country, but he was bitter because he wasn’t seen the same way. The anxiety kicked in when he realized that he’d be alone while Bucky was at war and there was nothing he could do about it. He had tried to enlist again earlier that day in New Jersey, but he still didn’t make the cut.

Fourth time’s the charm, right? He should’ve known better.

“What did your father die of?” the Doctor asks.

“Mustard gas. He was in the 107th infantry. I was hoping I could be assigned-“

“Mother?”

“She was a nurse in a TB ward. Got hit. Couldn’t shake it.” Steve spoke clearly and confidently, but he felt a sudden dryness in his throat forming from talking about his parents.

The man gives Steve a quick once-over. “Sorry, son.  
“Well just give me a chance!”

“You’ll be ineligible on your asthma alone.”

“Is there anything you can do?” Steve asked, trying to convey his desperation.

“I’m doing it. I’m saving your life.” The sound of the stamp hitting his enlistment form left a ringing in his ears, and the image of the bold 4F burned a hole through his heart. It didn’t feel like the doctor was saving his life at all; it felt like he was invalidating it.

***

Bucky didn't understand Steve’s deep-seated need to go to war, he despised it. Bucky had first decided that he didn’t want to enlist, that he’d try to avoid it as long as he could, even though he knew that they’d eventually find him, so he’d be forced to join the army or be arrested.

Fighting on the front-lines was never one of his goals, nor was it exactly on his to-do list as a good-looking guy in New York. His father was killed in action and he didn’t feel right having to leave Steve behind.

Steve experienced the worst illness of his life that past winter. He sat with Steve everyday, even after long days of working at the docks, praying to God that his best pal didn’t have pneumonia. As much as it made Bucky sick to his stomach to think about, Bucky knew that Steve wouldn’t make it through if that were the case. But of course he pulled through; Bucky liked to joke about it and ask, "If you're gone, who's gonna give all these jerks a hard time!" which always made Steve laugh.

Bucky was running late to the movie he and Steve had planned to see that night. He was getting fitted for his uniform after having returned from basic only a few days prior. He was still surprised that he got promoted to Sergeant after only a few months of training. Sergeant James Barnes had a nice ring to it, but brought back memories of parts of his childhood that he had tried so hard to block out since the death of his father, and even more so since the news of the war broke out.

He had plenty of time to get the theatre when he started his walk, but upon noticing all the looks he had been receiving, he started walking slower and slower. People applauded him, gave him pats on the shoulder, and wished him good luck. He had no idea how people could be happy for someone going to fight in a war, but it made him feel a little better. He had only ever been a hero to Steve, but maybe if he fights through this thing, he’ll be a hero to everyone else.

As he got closer to the theatre, his smile got bigger and bigger, thinking about how Steve would react to how good he looked in his new uniform. Then something broke his train of thought – the sound of skin hitting skin. Bucky looked into the alley, and one glimpse of golden blond hair was all he needed. It was Steve. Of course it was.

Steve got knocked down but got right back up, he was half the size of the large bully across from him.

“You just don’t know when to give up, do you?”

“I can do this all day.” Steve replies, to a clearly rhetorical question. He brings his fists up and tries to throw a punch.

Before Steve can get a hit in, although he was far from it, his opposer lands another punch, sending Steve right into the pile of garbage behind him.

The bully tries hitting him again, but before he can, Bucky grabs his arm.

“Hey! Pick on someone your own size!” Bucky says before dodging a punch aimed at his face. Bucky surprised the bully with a right hook, and gives him his hardest kick, sending him out of the alley; away from Steve.

Bucky immediately turns around to help Steve up. “I’m starting to think you like getting punched.”

“I had him on the ropes,” Steve says, brushing the dirt from his clothes. His enlistment form falls from his pocket, and Bucky picks it up.

“How many times is this? And you’re from Paramus, now? You know it’s illegal to lie on the enlistment form,” Bucky says sternly.

Steve looks up finally and notices Bucky’s uniform. He looks like he was made to wear it, like he was made to be a soldier. He looks absolutely handsome. But then Steve realizes what that uniform means. He tries not to sound sad when he asks Bucky if he got his orders, even though he already knew the answer.

“Sergeant James Barnes. The 107th ships to England first thing tomorrow. This is my last night,” He says, with a fake smile on his face.

There it is. The 107th. Steve thinks he can feel his insides solidify.

Bucky just looks down at Steve’s face, he knows it’s growing sadder. This fills Bucky with a strange sense of motivation. Steve already lost his father while he was serving with the 107th, he couldn’t bare to let him lose his best friend in the same unit. So Bucky grabs Steve and pulls him close, leading him out of the alley. "Come on!" 

“Where are we going?” Steve asks.

Bucky unfolds the newspaper in his hand. “The future.”

The front page of the newspaper reads WORLD EXHIBITION OF TOMORROW in  
bold letters.

***

Steve stands by a mirrored booth in the recruitment pavilion.

YOUR DUTY: TRY IT ON FOR SIZE!

He stands back and watches a man a little bigger than Bucky walk up to it. He looks big and heroic in the reflection. Steve steps up next. He can barely see over the collar, and a huge wave of disappointment washes over him.

Before he steps away, Bucky walks up behind him and grabs his shoulder.

“You’re kind of missing the point of a ‘double-date,’” Bucky tries to sound as enthusiastic as possible to get Steve to feel better.

“You go ahead. I’ll catch up with you.”

“You’re really gonna do this again?”

Steve and Bucky argue for a bit, but Bucky doesn’t want to leave Brooklyn in a fight with Steve, so he lets up.

Bucky goes dancing and thinks about Steve the entire time.

**–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––**

It’s 5 am and Bucky is sitting at the foot of he and Steve’s bed, watching Steve’s fragile chest rise and fall. He’ll miss that – being able to tell that Steve is alive just by looking over at him. It sounds morbid, but when Bucky is in a trench somewhere clutching a rifle to his chest, he won't be able to look over and make sure his best friend is alive, and that's more scary than being in the middle of a war. 

Bucky is terrified of dying, but he’s more terrified of surviving the war and coming home to an empty apartment. Steve might’ve supported Bucky going to fight for his country, but Bucky didn’t support the idea of leaving Steve.

He takes a deep breath before getting up to leave. He has more than an hour before he has to be at the train station, but he needs some time to himself to collect his feelings – his rage, grief and anxiety – before he leaves Brooklyn, and _Steve_ , maybe for good.

“…Buck?” Steve calls out hoarsely.

Bucky stops in his tracks, “Stevie… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

He looks down at his shoes; he really didn’t mean to wake him. He was hoping he could leave without Steve’s face twisted into an unfathomable pout being the last thing he saw. But even more than that, he couldn’t let Steve see the fear in his eyes – Steve couldn’t remember him like that – so he plasters on the big, fake smile that he's had on since finding Steve in the alley, and turns around.

“I was hoping you wouldn't hear me,” Bucky says as he starts walking back to the bed.

“You know I can’t let you leave like this, just give me 5 minutes to get ready, I-“

“Steve, please. We talked about this. I don’t want you there. I can’t have you there.”

“Buck…”

“Stevie.” Bucky practically whispers. “If you’re there, I won’t be able to leave. As much as I don’t want to, as much as I need to stay here with you, I have to go.”

“I know you have to, but I want to be there. Please. I need to see you off.”

Bucky drops his suitcase and in three long strides, he has Steve in his arms, holding him so tight that Steve lets out a soft whimper. “This is what I need you to remember, how I need you to remember me. Here, holding you, okay?" Bucky pushes Steve back a little and grips his shoulders tightly. "I need you to stay safe, too. Promise me you won’t do anything stupid. That includes enlisting. You know I'm with you til the end of the line, but I can't be if you're not with me.”

"Fine. Til the end of the line."

It breaks Bucky’s heart to see the life drain from Steve’s eyes when he says this. If Bucky wasn’t already scared of Steve being alone in Brooklyn, he was even more scared of Steve getting arrested for lying on the enlistment form.

Steve Rogers doesn’t belong in the war, and especially not a prison.

Bucky hugs Steve again and it feels like hours before he finally lets go. 

"I'll be back before you know it. I love you."

"I love you back."

Bucky leaves, but stands behind the door for a few moments before taking a deep breath and exiting the building. Steve knew Bucky was still there, and as soon as he heard Bucky walk away from their door, he broke down. 

_Bye, buck._

**–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––**

It’s a lot colder than he expected it to be on the train, so he wraps his arms around his body hoping to preserve his own body heat. Then he feels something. He reaches into his coat pocket and finds a small composition notebook. He opens it and the first page is a letter from Steve.

_Bucky,_

_I know there’s so much more you wanted to say. I know you’re going to be surrounded by people who don’t know you like I do. I realize that it’s going to a be hard couple of months, so I hope you find comfort in this. I wish we were spending your birthday together, but this is the best that I could do. This notebook is for you; I know how you get when you let your thoughts build up, so I hope this helps. I love you._

_‘Till the end of the line._

_\- S_

On the backside of the page, Steve left a sketch of the two of them at Coney Island. Holding hands. Bucky always talked about how he wished for the day that he could hold Steve’s hand in public; to act like a normal couple, just like everybody else.

He thinks to himself, _I love him. I should’ve told him more, I should’ve told him every chance I got. He deserved someone better, not someone who would leave him for the war._

Bucky is on the verge of crying, but instead he pulls a small pen out of his carry-on bag. He turns a page in the composition notebook and starts writing.

_To Steve,_

_I know you never listen, but please don’t do anything stupid. I won’t be just around the corner the next time you need me._

_From Bucky_


End file.
